DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

66 My verfe little better you'll find than my face is

66

A word to the wife—ut pi&ura piëfis.”

THREE merry lads, with envy ftung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combin'd in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place fet up their own;
As if they'd run it down much better
By number of their feet in metre,
O that its red did cause their spite,
Which made them draw in black and white.
Be that as 'twill, this is moft true,
They were infpir'd by what they drew.
Let them fuch critics know, my face
Gives them their comlinefs and grace:
Whilft every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they fing.
But yet methinks, though with difgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I fhould name them who do rehearse
The story of the picture-farce;
The Squire, in French as hard as stone,
Or ftrong as rock, that's all as one,
On face, on cards is very brifk, Sirs,
Because on them you play at whisk, Sirs.
But much I wonder, why my crany
Should envy'd be by De-el-any:

And yet much more, than half-name fake
Should join a party in the freak;
For fure I am it was not fafe
Thus to abufe his better half,
As I fhall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divifm and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the cafe whène'er you fee
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;

Or fhould Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane:
'Tis hard then he should be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his fide.
But, if the cafe must be so hard,
That faces fuffer by a card,
Let critics cenfure, what care I?
Back-biters only we defy :
Faces are free from injury.

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

You fay your face is better hung
Than ours---by what? by nofe or tongue?
In not explaining, you are wrong

Because we thus unuft ftate the cafe,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd difgrace
of noofe, Sir.

བ་་་་་...་་་་

fyllables

the tables.

DR. DELANY'S REPLY.

ASSIST me, my Mufe, whilft I labour to limn him:
Credite, Pifones, ifli tabulæ perfimilem.
You look and you write with fo different a grace,
That leavy your verse, tho' I did not your face.
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reafon
enough,

'Caufe one is as fmooth as the other is rough.
But much I'm amaz'd you should think my
defign
quin grin,
Was to rhyme down your nofe, or your harle-
Which you yourself wonder the de'el fhould'

malign.

And if 'tis fo strange, that your monstership's crany I Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany. Though I own to you, when I confider it stricter, I envy the painter, although not the picture. And justly the's envy'd, fince a fiend of Hell Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael. Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true That we were infpir'd by the fubject we drew; Inpir'd we were, and well, Sir, you knew it, Yet not by your nofe, but the fair one that drew it: Had your nofe been the mufe, we had ne'er been infpir'd,

Though perhaps it might justly 've been said we

were fir'd.

As to the divifion of words in your staves, Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three halves,

I meddle not with't, but prefume to make merry.
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call 't o'er and o'er,
Then it can't be deny'd that Sherry's two more:
For pray give me leave to fay, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at leaft of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir you did it to fill up the verfe:
So crowds iu a concert (like actors in farce)
Play two parts in one, when fcrapers are fcarce.
Bbe that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, Sir,
When Sheridan fends to Merry Dan anfwer.

SHERIDAN'S REPLY.

THREE merry lads you own we are; Tis very true, and free from care;

But envious we cannot bear,

For, were all forms of beauty thine, Were you like Nereus foft and fine, We should not in the least repine,

or grieve, Sir. Then know from us, most beauteous Dan, That roughness beft becomes a man; Ts women thould be pale and wan,

And all your trifling beaux and fops,

and taper.

Who comb their brows, and fleek their chops, Are but the offspring of toy-shops,

meer vapour,

We know your morning-hours you pass To cull and gather out a face; this the way you take your glass?

Forbear it,

about me.

But hold, Sir.

66 My verfe little better you'll find than my face is

From all parts make their pilgrimage, Worship thy nose with pious rage

of love, S

DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

A word to the wife-ut pictura pcëfis.”

THREE merry lads, with envy ftung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combin'd in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place fet up their own;
As if they'd run it down much better
By number of their feet in metre,
Or that its red did cause their spite,
Which made them draw in black and white.
Be that as 'twill, this is moft true,
They were infpir'd by what they drew.
Let them fuch critics know, my face
Gives them their comlinefs and grace:
Whilft every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they fing.
But yet methinks, though with disgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I should name them who do rehearse
The story of the picture-farce;
The Squire, in French as hard as stone,
Or ftrong as rock, that's all as one,
On face, on cards is very brifk, Sirs,
Because on them you play at whisk, Sirs.
But much I wonder, why my crany
Should envy'd be by De-el-any:

And yet much more, than half-name fake
Should join a party in the freak;
For fure I am it was not fafe
Thus to abuse his better half,
As I fhall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divifm and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the cafe whene'er you fee
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;
Or fhould Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane ;
'Tis hard then he should be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his fide.
But, if the cafe must be so hard,
That faces fuffer by a card,
Let critics cenfure, what care I?
Back-biters only we defy :
Faces are free from injury.

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

All their region will be spent Abont thy woven monument, And not one orifon be sent

You the fam'd idol will become,
As gardens grac'd in ancient Rome,
By inatron's worship'd in the gloom

O happy Dan! thrice happy fure!
Thy fame for ever shall endure,
Who after death can love fecure

So far I thought it was my duty
To dwell upon thy boasted beauty;
Now I'll proceed a word or two t'ye,

To that party where you carry on
This paradox, that rock and ftone
In your opinion are all one.

A man of reasoning fo profound,
So ftupidly be run aground,
As things fo differently to confound

to Jove, S

of nig

at figh

in anfw

How can, Si

t' our fenfes

Except you judg'd them by the knock
Of near an equal hardy block:
Such an experimental stroke

Then might you be, by dint of reason,
A proper judge on this occafion;
'Gainft feeling there's no difputation,

Therefore to thy fuperior wit,
Who made the trial, we fubmit;
Thy head to prove the truth of it

convince

is granted

we wanted

You fay your face is better hung
Than ours---by what? by nose or tongue ?
In not explaining, you are wrong

Because we thus unft ftate the cafe,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd difgrace
of noofe, Sir.

fyllables

the tables

DR. DELANY'S REPLY.

Assist me, my Mufe, whilft I labour to limn him:
Credite, Pifones, ifli tabulæ perfimilem.
You look and you write with fo different a grace,
That leavy your verse, tho' I did not your face.
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reafon
enough,

Cafe one is as fmooth as the other is rough.
But much I'm amaz'd you should think my
defign
quin grin,
Was to rhyme down your nofe, or your harle-
Which you yourself wonder the de'el fhould
malign.

And if 'tis fo ftrange, that your monstership's crany
Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I confider it stricter,
Ieavy the painter, although not the picture.
And juftfly the's envy'd, fince a fiend of Hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true
That we were infpir'd by the subject we drew;
Infpir'd we were, and well, Sir, you knew it,
Yet not by your nofe, but the fair one that drew it:
Had your nofe been the mufe, we had ne'er been
infpir'd,

Though perhaps it might justly 've been said we were fir'd.

As to the divifion of words in your staves, Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three. halves,

I meddle not with't, but prefume to make merry.
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call 't o'er and o'er,
Ten it can't be deny'd that Sherry's two more:
For pray give me leave to fay, Sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at leaft of double the value.
But perhaps, Sir you did it to fill up the verse :
So crowds in a concert (like actors in farce)
Pay two parts in one, when fcrapers are fcarce.
But be that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, Sir,
When Sheridan fends to Merry Dan anfwer.

SHERIDAN'S REPLY.

THREE merry lads you own we are; Ts very true, and free from care;

But envious we cannot bear,

Far, were all forms of beauty thine, Were you like Nereus soft and fine, We should not in the least repine,

or grieve, Sir. Then know from us, most beauteous Dan, That roughness beft becomes a man; "Tis women should be pale and wan,

And all your trifling beaux and fops,

and taper.

Who comb their brows, and fleek their chops, Are but the offspring of toy-shops,

meer vapour,

We know your morning-hours you pass

To call and gather out a face;

this the way you take your glass?

Forbear it,

Is not a penny often found

about me.

But hold, Sir.

to be much greater than a pound? By your good leave, my most profound

and bold, Sir,

For every stroke goes to my heart, And at each lafh I feel the smart Of lath laid on by you.

To the Rev. DANIEL JACKSON;

To be humbly prefented by Mr. SHERIDAN Perfon, with Refpe&, Care, and Speed.

DEAR DAN.

I maul'd you, when you look'd fo bluff, But now I'll fecret keep your stuff; For know, proftration is enough

and cry on,

to th' lion.

SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.

BY THE DEAN.

"Cedo jam, miferæ cognofcens præmia rixæ,
"Si rifca eft, ubi tu pulfas ego vapulo tantum."

POOR Sherry, inglorious,
To Dan the victorious,
Prefents as 'tis fitting,
Petition and greeting.

TO you victorious and brave,
Your now-fubdued and suppliant slave

Moft humbly fues for pardon;
Who when I fought ftill cut me down,
And when I vanish'd fled the town,
Purfued and laid me hard on.
Now lowly crouch'd I cry peccavi,
And proftrate fupplicate pour ma vie ;
Your mercy I rely on;

For you, my conqueror and my king,
In pardoning as in punishing,

Will thew yourself a lion.

Alas! Sir, I had no defign,
But was unwarily drawn in ;

For fpite I ne'er had any :

'Twas the damn'd fquire with the hard name; The de'el too that ow'd me a flame,

The devil and Delany;

They tempted me t' attack your highness, And then, with wonted wile and flynefs,

They left me in the lurch:
Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to vent my fpleen
But ferula and birch:

And they, alas! yield fmall relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief;
My wounds bleed all aucw:

Not half the puns you make a week,

Should bribe his longer stay.

With me you left him out at nurse,

Yet are you not my debtor; For, as he hardly can be worse,

I ne'er could make him better. He rhymes and puns, and puns and rhymes, Just as he did before;

And when he's lafh'd a hundred times,

He rhymes and puns the more. When rods are laid on fchool-boys bums, The more they frisk and skip : The school-boy's top but louder hums, The more they ufe the whip.

Thus, a lean beast beneath a load
(A beast of Irish breed)

Will, in a tedious, dirty road,
Outgo the prancing fteed.

You knock him down and down in vain,
And lay him flat before ye;
For, foon as he gets up again,

He'll ftrut, and cry, Victoria!
At every stroke of mine he fell :
'Tis true he roar'd and cry'd;
But his impenetrable shell

Could feel no harm befide.
The tortoife thus, with motion flow,
Will clamber up a wall;

Yet, fenfelefs to the hardest blow,

Gets nothing but a fall.

Dear Dan, then, why fhould you or I,
Attack his pericrany?

And, fince it is in vain to try,
We'll fend him to Delany.